Reservoir Dogs
by MarcellusMiro66
Summary: (Known as (Downtown) City on Fire) Whenever a diamond heist is involved in a story, you know something's bound to go awry. Featuring an ensemble cast that features Shahrukh, Esteban, Digby, Shivers, and Captain Cuddles. Rated T for (mostly) excessive profanity and graphic violence. Part 1 of the Courtroom Drama series.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

(Downtown) City on Fire

Hi, MarcellusMiro66 here! After watching "Littlest Pet Shop" and noticing its many hidden pop culture references (most notably the "Kill Bill" one), I have worked on a new project series entitled "Courtroom Drama", which involves most of Quentin Tarantino's trademarks. Set in different AUs, these stories involve a courthouse and a trial involving two main characters. The primary stories don't necessarily take place in the courthouse, but there will be small bits of it inbetween chapters. This first story alludes to "Reservoir Dogs", which was Tarantino's first film. So...

Enjoy! If you can...

* * *

Chapter 1: Prologue (Sticky Situations)

(Downtown City - 6:00AM)

"All rise in the presence of Judge Cahill!"

All the occupants in the room all stood up in honor of the judge, who nodded and raised her hand, "You may sit." Everybody sat right back down in their seats, including the two main young girls: a brown-haired one and a black-haired one. Blythe Baxter was the goody two-shoes who was gentle, polite, and...rather nice. Whittany Biskit was the opposite of her: she was rude, cude, and...rather mean. Their friendship was complicated to say the least, but at least it was still functioning considering both of their families were often dysfunctional. Blythe tried her best to make her see that friendship wasn't all that bad in her mind, while Whittany tried her hardest to make her life downright miserable than it already was. And that's exactly how they both ended up in the big house. One of Whittany's attempts to pick on Blythe even further went too far and she punched her. Punched her. One very brutal fistfight later, the two girls ended up in the hospital in handcuffs.

Funny thing, handcuffs are. The purpose of handcuffs is to restrain oneself as a means of safety precautions by police and other authorities. In reality, it was used for three things only: torment, humiliation, and pain. They all meant one thing only: bad. They could've been next, but the justice department let them slide...for now.

That's why I am what I am: a criminal. So I can prevent myself from being handcuffed and handwell...my definition of "being utterly humiliated".

But criminals get their comeuppance eventually...

But not today.

* * *

"That...was truly a lovely eulogy there, Mr. Grey."

"Thank you, Mr. Blonde...for actually being nice in your life."

"The fuck you're talking about, Mr. Grey? I've been a good-hearted soul all my life...well, at least I hit Lucky Number 13."

"No, Mr. Blonde, everybody knows the saying is Lucky Number 7."

"Fuck 7 & 13, Mr. White; I'm taking this up to 11!"

"Men! Can we please fucking focus here?"

The "men" turned to face their boss, a middle-aged "man" who seemed to be approaching his early 50s. Mr. Grey's face soon expressed realization,

"Actually, sir, we were not men. We're...animals."

"Meh. Man, animal, what's the fucking difference? They're both fucking organisms, so stop fucking laughing over there, Mr. Blonde."

"What? It's the way how Grey said it. We're not men."

The douchebag of a hitman began to crack up and laugh uncontrollably. Mr. White, Mr. Pink, and the others began to follow suit; Mr. Grey and the bossman remained stone-faced and confused (in Mr. Grey's case) all the same.

"I don't get it.

"Me neither, kid."

After a moment or so, everybody calmed down and regained their serious posture. Mr. Blonde faced the bossman, "Sorry about that, boss; it was a funny joke."

He remained expressionless but replied, "Yeah, I'll tell you a joke when we get back to the warehouse. Right now...let's go to work."

Everybody stood up and left, tipping the waitress serving them, save for Mr. Grey. He kept on staring at the dollar bill at his hand. Why did money exist? Was it because it was meant to save us...or destroy us? If many hints pointed to the latter, to hell with it. He dropped it in the middle of the pile and left the cafe, not joining the others. Walking home to the Littlest Pet Shop, Grey couldn't help but think: why did he stay there? He knew his sister was in good hands, but did they really to have be fucking separated? Still...

Grey walked upstairs and rested in the lobby's balcony. Looking above it, you know what he saw? He saw the place in flames and destruction all over, and the pets were running around in terror and panic all over. He could've save them, but why couldn't he? Because he was banned from entering and living in Littlest Pet Shop ever again. The surprisingly super-smart one (besides Russell) who always thought of a way out of sticky situations. Now that he was gone, the situations that the pets always got themselves into got more stickier as time passed. Times have changed, however. Blythe and Whittany were both going to jail, and there was nothing he or the pets could do about it...

Except join a ragtag gang of common criminals to rob a bank full of diamonds pricey enough to save Blythe, if not Whittany also.

That's why he was what he was: a criminal. So he could save lives while also killing others.

He hated and loved himself for it.

Grey retreated to the storage room and grabbed a bottle of gel along with a black comb. After taking his fifth shower in a row, he geled his hair and combed it, slicking it to the right (left, in the viewers' eyes). He put on a spare grey blazer over his white long-sleeved shirt with grey tie, a pair of grey dress pants, and a pair of black dress shoes. Other than the shoes, he was...oh, never mind, you got the idea. He then took out a SIG-Sauer P229R, checking the load before chambering the slide and decocking the hammer. Tucking his weapon in his suit jacket, he checked himself in the mirror: he was ready to go.

Grey walked downstairs and walked a five-mile walk to the hideout as he contemplated his choices regarding the heist. He had to take part of it; he was a criminal, and robbing people is what they do for a living.

Chase wasn't either of those, and that's why...

He hated and loved himself for it.

* * *

Jason #2 followed the polecat to the warehouse and stopped when the place he was hiding at was aligned with the site.

Philippa was at the top half.

Emma was at the bottom half.

"Umm, Jason #2, are you sure this plan is going to work?"

"No, Emma, but we have to try...even if we have to shoot him."

The trio were not that big of a fan for violence, but they were no stranger, either. They had to convince him to give it up, but the question was how? Such as...

How did they get themselves in this sticky situation in the first place?

* * *

(Downtown City - 2:00PM)

How did they get themselves in this sticky situation in the first place?

Mr. Grey ran through the sidewalks of Downtown City, the duffel bag in his grasp, and avoided every police officer possible...except her.

She was the reason that they, especially he, were/was in this fucking funk. Damn that fucking Blonde for not using a damn, fucking suppressor for his damn, fucking handgun. What the fuck was the bossman fucking thinking? He was supposed to hire professionals, but instead he settled for a psychopath. They were supposed to be professionals, but instead they settled for personals. She understood perfectly, and that's why she had to hunt him down as he was to avoid her...down.

After commandeering a white Honda Civic, Grey hotwired the vehicle and drove off, leaving the officer in his wake. Scowling to herself, Detective Barton pulled her walkie-talkie and radioed her superior:

"Boss, I lost one of the cronies, but I got a good look at him."

"How good?"

"Face-to-face. A polecat, not one of those European sweeties. Grey suit and tie, jet black hair, diamond blue eyes..."

"Detective?"

"Sorry, boss. Upon what I've seen...he's got the diamonds, all right."

"All right then. Let me see what I can do. In the meantime...just walk it off. It's what pets do."

"But I'm not a pet; never have been, never will be. I'm a service animal; always have been, always will be."

"Pet, service animal, there's no difference; they're both animals. Just await backup; I'll be there ASAP, traffic or no traffic."

"Yes sir."

The detective hung up first and knew that she couldn't argue with her boss.

She was a skunk, after all.

Heading back to her apartment, Tara stripped down to nothing but her white business shirt. She then placed on a broght red leather jacket, a grey cardigan over the shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pair of black boots. She loved her suit too much to place it in harm's way. No, she needed the proper armor when going into battle. The detective just wished it was the right set of proper armor. Then again...she hanged around Blythe just a tad too much.

Chambering her Glock 17, Tara placed her holster and headed downstairs again. She had caught to catch that gang, especially him. She had no idea why...

She just had to.

* * *

The diamonds were taken by the criminals, whom the cops are trying to catch, especially Detective Barton, who herself is on a mission to personally arrest Mr. Grey, who himself has second thoughts about being a criminal, something Mr. White and Mr. Blonde especially are.

Everybody had a common goal...but who's playing who?


	2. Chapter 2: Plot & Character Development

Chapter 2: Plot and Character Development

A/N: Sorry for not uploading for a long time, guys and gals; high school comes first. FAIR WARNING: This chapter is fairly longer than the first one for...obvious reasons.

(Downtown City - 6:00PM...12 Hours Earlier)

Nobody knew what happened. It just happened. All everybody knew was that Blythe Baxter was pushed too far and punched- fricking punched Whittany Biskit. Granted, she did deserve it as far as anyone was concerned, but did she really had to pick a fight with a rich, spoiled brat? First thing they knew, both of the girls were duking it out and everybody (with the exception of Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Twombly, Josh Sharp, and everyone affiliated with Blythe) was cheering and whooping all the same. Next thing they knew...

BANG!

Everybody screamed and scrammed, the two girls looking up from their fistfight to find Whittany's loyal butler Monsieur François LeGrande with a shotgun-a fricking shotgun aimed at them both. A Remington 870 to be exact, the standard version and not customized. The remaining people just gawked on with bewilderment, not suspecting that an old man, mind you, would handle such a rather heavy weapon. He pumped the shell out and ceased aiming for a few moments before the police arrived. He explained everything to the officers, most of it the truth, and they detained the poor girls.

Right now, Roger and Josh waited inside the police station out of the blistering cold, while Mrs. Twombly amd the others waited back at Littlest Pet Shop for further information concerning Blythe and Whittany's potential arrest. It wasn't until almost exactly 6:00PM that the head of the DCPD, Commissioner Reagan, and a grey skunk on his shoulder (presumably his service pet) approached them both. He informed them that both of the girls were not going to be arrested but instead settle this case in a trial of sorts. The ride back home was silent all the way and when they got to their respective houses, all that could be heard...was silence.

Demonstrated when Mr. Grey pulled the trigger.

The man down was the manager of the bank he and his gang were planning to rob, a stereotypical fat and lazy man who commited sins in the past...kinda like himself right now.

Mr. Grey detached the suppressor from his P229R and tucked the handgun in his suit jacket. Calling the police, he wasn't that much of an asshat and modulated his voice so they wouldn't figure and single him out so easy. He left the apartment later after that as soon as the ESU arrived. As he was leaving, he saw her: the dark grey skunk on the Commissioner's shoulder. Taking refuge in the air vents, Mr. Grey observed on as the skunk surveyed the crime scene alongside her superior and fellow officers. This female intrigued him for some odd reason, not because she was a police detective. She was different from the others. He had to study her even further, but not now. Right now, he had to leave.

And that's what exactly what he did.

* * *

(Downtown City - 6:00AM...12 Hours Laterer)

That was 12 hours earlier. This is 12 hours laterer. Blythe and Whittany were both sitting back in the courthouse on opposing sides, their friends and families on each side. Judge Cahill was high in the sky, sitting in her podium in the middle of the entire room with her trusty gavel in hand. Like Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Twombly, and the rest of Blythe's friends and family, the Judge knew that Blythe wasn't at fault but also knew that Whittany wasn't at fault as well like her friends and family.

She knew that a robbery was bound to take place, considering that all of the members of the force were all present in the big house.

Detective Barton assumed this assumption as well and offered to switch her position with Reagan's, which was to watch and respond to any suspicious activity. And she did...sort of: 12 men in suit-and-ties sharing a conversation with each other in a mini cafe? She almost shrugged it off as barely suspicious, but what confused was the men weren't men (cue a mental titter). They were animals, talking animals...with guns on the table for virtually almost everybody inside to see. The talking animal matter wasn't that strange; in fact, it didn't even surprise her to her extent. But talking animals with guns, now that was an entirely different matter entirely.

She was a talking animal with a gun, too, but at least she had the decency to carry a license to carry it (the gun) around with her.

The polecat in the grey suit, though...

* * *

(Downtown City - 2:00PM)

Shahrukh kicked down the door rather violently with a profusely bleeding Esteban slung on his shoulders. Laying him down on an table nearby, Shahrukh took the roll of extra-long bandages and bound the gunshot wound with it, dousing with rubbing alcohol as Esteban screamed out in pain. After a few moments or so, his screams ceased and transitioned to heavy panting, which soon transformed to light whimpering. He called out repeatedly for his partner/best friend to no avail; on the 10th try, he began to sob out in terror...terror that his cru-best friend didn't make it. Yelling in his feathers in despair, Estaban curled up in a ball of fur, not giving a fuck if his shot abdomen was paining him even more.

"Esteban?"

The macaw in question looked up and turned to see his mongoose friend slowly sauntering toward him. Staring into each others' eyes for a brief moment, Esteban reacted first with a body-crushing hug for Shahrukh, who was bewildered at the fact that his feathery friend was still alive and breathing. He hesitantly returned the hug and accepted it fully.

"Where were you, Shahrukh?"

"Oh, I was in the bathroom washing my hands; you got a lot of blood on me."

"I...I did?"

"Yeah, some fucking bitch shot you in the chest-thing, so I dragged her out of the car and drove us back to the hideout. You don't remember?"

"No. No, I was too busy thinking about..."

"About what, Esteban?"

He was going to tell him the truth, honestly. He would've, if it weren't for his damned feels.

That combined with a conveniently-timed polecat, he should've told him straight forward.

"Fucking shit! Was this a fucking setup or...what?"

One look at the both of them was all Mr. Grey needed to realize the realization of the situation that had occurred while he got away with the bag.

"Oh, God. Orange got tagged?"

"Yeah."

"Well, where are the others? Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, The Rainbow Dashes?"

"The latters are dead...well, most of them are."

"Good Lord. They got tagged, too?"

"No shit, Sherlock. Except they're much worser than Esteban here."

Mr. Grey ran his hands through his hair and knew that Mr. Orange (or Esteban, as Shahrukh called him) was going to die if he didn't get the proper treatment. Then again...some people were lucky and some weren't. But he was branded and treated as a heartless douche if he thought of negativity like that.

"We gotta him to a hospital."

Cue a flat "What?"

"I said, we need to get him to the hospital."

Mr. Grey couldn't believe this; Shahrukh was willing to sacrifice his freedom for his friend in order for him to get treated. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but...it just wasn't like him. A spoiled, rotten former mongoose superstar turned professional criminal was actually to let himself die for a macaw he barely knew. What happened before the robbery? Did they meet before the ensemble? Did they have a one-night stand? Did they...

Oh, hell no.

"Shahrukh?"

"What?"

"How the fuck do you Mr. Orange's name?"

A moment of silent hesitation followed as Shahrukh glanced back and forth between Mr. Grey and...Esteban, who was slowly losing consciousness again and drifting into a deep sleep. The mongoose only relented when he noticed the P229R tucked in his waistband; it was his personal weapon and not his professional issued, the E2 model of the same gun. Knowing Mr. Grey would rather kill than be killed in order to obtain the diamonds, he sighed deeply and complied.

"I told him; it wasn't on accident, but not intentional, either. It was mainly on plain instinct."

"When?"

The answer he got shocked him:

"After our unintentional one-night stand."

Son of a bitch. He fucking knew it.

"I told him because he didn't have any friends in his childhood," Shahukh continued, "and that I was his first real one. I told him that I didn't have real friends because work got in the way; you have to sign autographs, perform dangerous stunts...and set aside personal affairs to become a big shot. After that, everything blacked out."

Mr. Grey was divided; one side wanted to shoot the son of a bitch for somewhat comprising the team, but the other needed to feel sorry for the both of them for not acquiring any friends at all. After all, they were both hurt: Esteban physically and Shahrukh emotionally.

"That's why he needs to get to the hospital; he's my friend, and he's dying."

"Well, I guess some pets are lucky, and some aren't."

Oh. Fucking. Shit.

Mr. Grey glanced nervously at Shahrukh, who in turn angrily glared straight back at him. Jesus, the mongoose only met the macaw for a couple of days, and a single line from the polecat just had to set him off. It's almost if the Berserker Button was controlling him...and succeeding.

"I'm sorry?"

Shahrukh would have none of it, however; he went in for the kill and nailed Grey in the nose, knocking him straight to the ground. He then dodged several more punches, kicks, and surprisingly uppercuts to receiving to the chin. Okay, he could mess with the face, but messing with the chin was an entirely different story. He whipped out his P229R just as Shahrukh drew his P229 E2 and both simultaneously aimed their sidearms at each other.

"Damn it, White, I said I was sorry! Do I have to be repetitive to you?"

"No, but you have to be at least respective once in a while!"

"Fuck you and fuck respect, White! I never needed or wanted respect in the first place! The last time I tried to get my respect from my friends, I was banned from Littlest Pet Shop! Forever! That's exactly what got not just me, not just you, but the entire team in this goddamn situation! Having friends, Shahrukh! That's why I don't have them; so I won't get fucking compromised! I didn't tell Esteban my name, I didn't tell him my birthplace, and it was you who broke the group's only rules! So if you want somebody to blame...I suggest that you look no further than the fucking tree you were born from."

Shahrukh was speechless during Grey's speech, but he was still angry and upset that a polecat of all pets insulted his decision to help his best friend than to help his group steal some diamonds. This didn't stop him from continuing to aim his firearm dangerously close to his face.

"You be lucky that those diamonds are the only things keeping you alive, Grey; otherwise, you'll be spitting out a 9mm out throughout your ass."

It was Grey's turn to be speechless; Shahrukh cursed. The mongoose with a sense of right and wrong actually used profanity. About fucking time.

"You two shouldn't play with guns with such dangerous manners; otherwise, someone's bound to get shot."

Faster than the sentence could register, Grey and Shahrukh briefly joined forces and aimed their weapons at the intruder, who raised up his hands-or in this case, paws in surrender. A blue dog had a strawberry milkshake in one hand, his P229 E2 in the other. It was unmistakable; the blue dog at the door was none other than Mr. Blonde.

Or, as Shahrukh called him:

"Tangier."


	3. Chapter 3: Over, Under, and Inbetween

Chapter 3: Over, Under, and Inbetween

(Downtown City - 7:00AM)

"So what you're saying is that Ms. Biskit and her twin sister has taunted you and your friends in the past?"

"Yes, though I don't believe Whittany's taunts were intentional."

"What do you mean?"

Tara and Blythe were both in a separate room opposite of the courthouse main, the detective interrogating the human without lethal force. Reagan remained there with Whittany, he too with no desire to display an aestheticization of violence. They both questioned the respective two girls as they shared their respective two sides of the story. In the courthouse main, the seven pets just sat there in the cage, contemplating what would occur if Blythe were set to prison.

"We should've been there for Blythe." Russell, considering he was the self-proclaimed leader of the group, was the first to speak as he tucked his paws into his jacket pockets.

"We all should've." Penny Ling went next.

"None of this would've happened if we had supported Blythe." Minka laid her head on Russell's shoulder.

"None of this is our fault, guys, but Minka has a point." Zoe, the self-proclaimed diva of the group, was the self-proclaimed voice of reason of the group, "Whether or not it's Blythe's fault, we have to be there for her whenever she needs us."

Everybody just gawked at Zoe shocked and surprised, but nodded in agreed unison. The seven pets just sat there in caged silence again, as Russell glanced toward the window to quote "look dramatically into the distance". If he didn't do something idiotic and clichéd as that, he would have never saw the polecat in a suit-and-tie walk past the courthouse. Russell crook his head to the side and observed from (pardon me) a distance, knowing that all-too familiar polecat too well. He seemed too aloof to be Captain Cuddles and too fancy to be...

Chase.

Chase Ingram, to his eyes, was a friend. An ally, an supporter of Blythe. That was, until he supposedly helped the Biskits almost sabotage the Pet Fest. He would've, too, hadn't been for his and her intervention. However, the two of them discovered the truth sooner or later and contacted his owners, who had founded only little Danielle and the two parents in the cage and not only Chase. Fortunately though, the young polecat returned home and almost immediately apologized to his sister amd parents. He shot Blythe and Russell an expressionless glance before returning home to his family. The both of them knew that they unwillingly broke him, him not returning to Littlest Pet Shop for a while.

Russell himself regretted that decision to find out Chase's "scheme" and report it to Blythe, who locked him in a cage and left him alone at the Pet Shop. Then the fire came along. Burning down nearly everything in sight, including Chase...well, most of him. Most of his fur was burned off whilst protecting himself from the blaze. Apparently enough, Blythe, himself, and almost everyone else didn't find out about the Pet Shop's ruins until they arrived there late at night. Blythe had forget about Chase in the midst of the Pet Fest's success and rushed into the debris to find him-or at least his lifeless corpse.

Luckily, an off-duty officer who had been near the fire when ito occurred approached Blythe and informed her that Chase was in the animal hospital recovering, offering her a breath of fresh relief. Still, Blythe had been acting off the days since Chase's dance with death. That could explain the whole struggle (literally) with the Biskit Twins, Whittany in particular.

Whatever the case, it was his fault, it was her fault, it was everybody's fault, who cared? What mattered was that Chase Ingram was gone that the minute he tried to help someone. And everybody regretted it, especially Chase himself.

Russell shrugged it off, nearly shrugging off Minka's sleeping head off his shoulder. He stopped himself before he could, though, and glanced up to find most of the pets were either asleep or still in caged silence.

He was over his head to think that was Chase outside.

* * *

François LeGrande dusted some dust off his boss's fine china. He knew Mr. Biskit had to defy expectations when it not only came to business, but also his family life. Sadly, this was not the case when his daughters barely cared if they either got expelled from school or tried to get themselves humiliated/arrested/killed in the process of upstaging Blythe. Which of the following three options would occur if this happened one day? You be the judge.

François headed upstairs when he was finished and dressed into proper/warmer attire, as he was heading to the trial. Aside from his standard suit-and-tie, he wore a dark sweater underneath the shirt and a tweed jacket above it all. He grabbed his Remington 870 with five boxes of 12 Gauge rounds and headed downstairs. He placed everything in his limo and drove off to the courthouse.

Over or under, he was the guy with the gun trying to make things right.

Like Mr. Grey.

* * *

(Downtown City - 2:15PM)

"Tangier."

"The one and only. Were you expecting someone else?"

"No. Actually, we weren't."

Shahrukh helped Grey up as they both stood their ground as Tangier stood his.

"Now, where the hell were you?"

"I stopped by a fast-food joint on the way here."

"What, did you rob it or something?"

"Oh, chillax, White. I only used it to threaten a dickless dogly who was harassing the waitress I was talking up a conversation with."

"Well, at least our cover's safe...for now."

"Are you serious, Grey? In case you weren't listening, Tangier basically used his P229 to commit virtuous vigilantism, Esteban is on the operating table bleeding his insides out, and the others aren't coming sooner or later! Am I the only one who has sense around this madhouse besides you as of this moment?!"

"Relax, Shahrukh, I was actually being serious for once."

"True to his word, White; even I could sense his tone. Geez, you gonna bark all day or you gonna bite all night, little doggie?"

Shahrukh glanced to Tangier, who unsubtly displayed a huge smirk on his face, "What did you say?"

"I said...you gonna bark all day or you gonna bite all night, little doggie?"

That was enough for Shahrukh. He lunged at the blue dog and punched him several times as Grey stood by and looked on. Shahrukh went all out with the bashing of his nemesis, grabbing anything nearby to beat Tangier senseless, from a frying pan to a baseball bat to a butter-filled sock, strangely enough. He only stopped when he swore that he heard Esteban moan in his sleep. Shahrukh threw Tangier aside and ran to his friend's side.

"I'll...take care of Tangier. You look after Esteban; he needs you."

Grey dragged Tangier upstairs as Shahrukh glanced back to his feathery friend; Esteban turned over and under in his sleep.

Shahrukh believed he was gonna go under if he managed to hit off with Esteban. After all...he was his best friend.

* * *

(Downtown City - At The Same Time)

Jason #2 readied his black Remington 700 given to him by Commissioner Reagan. Philippa and Emma both chambered their Mossberg 500 Persuaders given to them by Detective Barton...personally. Jason took his position on the roof, remembering not to open fire unless instructed to. All the while, the Soulpatches member lamented how they ended up where they were now; Emma "accidentally" stumbled upon a polecat walking out of an apartment that wasn't his that was now and still the crime scene of a banker businessman. They were inbetween a situation that they didn't want to be a part of, but they were. And now, they had a mission to accomplish, but it wasn't helping the cops catch the burglars.

It was deciding who was good and who was bad.

Clowns to the left of them, jokers to the right, here they were stuck in the middle with them.

* * *

A/N: Readers to the left of me, others to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you, serving up fresh albeit short ShahrukhXEsteban Ho-Yay tease and more to come in later chapters!

In case you were confused, "Chase" is the real name of Mr. Grey who appeared in one of my currently-on-haitus stories, _The_ _Trials_ _and_ _Tribulations_ _of_ _Love_. It's slow-paced, but I recommend you at least check it out. (Has multiple pairings, including BlytheXJosh and Sepper.)

And also, Ho-Yay is a trope on _TV_ _Tropes_. It supports homoeroticism, yay (that's literally the title)!


	4. Chapter 4: Needing and Wanting

Chapter 4: Needing and Wanting

Warning: Unfinished Chapter and _Graphic_ Descriptions of Sex.

* * *

(Downtown City - 6:00PM)

 _Nine hours ago..._

 _Maybe he shouldn't have done this. Maybe he shouldn't have accepted his invitation to stay in his portable trailer and sleep out for tonight. Maybe he shouldn't have slept with him. If he shouldn't..._

 _He shouldn't be in his warm embrace as of this moment._

It was six in the nighttime that Esteban woke up groggily and glanced all around himself; he was in a portable trailer of some sorts, with numerous movie posters of his friend Shahrukh spread all over. Whosever trailer this was, he or she must've been a big fanatic of the mongoose superstar. When he began to stand up to head toward a nearby restroom, he received his answer on whose trailer he was in.

 **SCHLOP!**

Esteban yelped out in surprise as his...posterior suddenly shrunk down to its normal size and a moan sounded throughout the trailer. His eyes glanced down and widened in shock, his eyes meeting the mongoose superstar's. Even in the dark, the scarlet macaw saw a smirk visible on his smug face as his eyes glanced downward as well. When Esteban mirrored his actions, his eyes widened tenfold upon the object he and Shahrukh laid both sets of eyes on...

The latter's _joystick_.

Esteban was evidently mortified, gulping under his breath and glancing back-and-forth between it and his mongoose associate. The mongoose in question continued to grin as he placed both of his paws on the macaw's legs...and bring it down for forcefully in order to insert it in.

 **SQUISH!**

Esteban yelped again, albeit this time a bit more quietly, and that yelp quickly transitioned to a savouring moan, which satisfied Shahrukh greatly.

"You weren't thinking about leaving so soon, weren't you?"

Esteban had absolutely no idea what to make of that question, so he merely shook no in order to avoid any sudden punishment.

"Didn't think so," Shahrukh chuckled to his relief. Unfortunately, to his simultaneous dismay, he began to bounce up and down and, combined with the shaking of his hips, more moans were prompted from the macaw. The mongoose himself barely keeped his act together as his moans joined in sync with his associate.

Sooner or later, both Esteban and Shahrukh's seed were released simultaneously; the former everywhere on his chest, and the latter into his partner's. Both panting heavily as their breathing soon engulfed the room, both pets needed a break from their little activity. His shaft still inside Esteban, Shahrukh leaned forward in a flexible-like manner and began to suck on his, prompting more and more moans from his feathery friend, even going so far as to shoving his head back down when he believed that he would stop. Just a few milliseconds later, he soon shot wave after wave of his seed into his friend's mouth, both of their eyes rolled back.

Shahrukh pulled away from Esteban, coughing violently and daring to choke on the latter's jizz. He didn't, however, as he swallowed it promptly and wiped the remnants of it from his face. His smirk grew even wider as they both realized: his dick was still inside of him. Gaining the upper hand, Shahrukh lifted himself up and right on top of Esteban, who gasped, groaned, and moaned intensely as his mongoose friend relentlessly and ruthlessly pounded him until they both came again. After releasing one half into his stomach, Shahrukh finally pulled out of Esteban and shot the other half onto his face. The two of them both just sat there, stunned at what just happened a few moments ago.

Until Shahrukh broke the silence once again, "So...did my naughty prisoner enjoy his punishment?"

Esteban nodded uncertainly and a smirk was his response, "Thought so," Shahrukh giggled and delivered a peck to his beak before falling asleep in his arms. The macaw developed an apparent eye twitch before sighing and soothing his head in confusion in what the hell just happened. It was only a few hours before the mission; they couldn't afford any delays or distractions. They were supposed to fucking professionals, but it seemed to get a little personal now. He wanted to focus on the mission, but he needed him...more specifically, his body.

There was a mighty fine line and difference between needing and wanting.

* * *

(Downtown City - 2:20PM)

Shahrukh fell asleep whilst watching Esteban, who in turn woke up almost immediately after his mongoose friend did the opposite. He glanced around in confusion; he should've been dead, but he wasn't. He was still in the warehouse and in bandages, but saw no need for them for now; his wounds had healed and the bleeding ceased. Sitting up, he slowly unwrapped them and discarded them aside from the makeshift gurney. As he did, he caught notice of a light groan and turned to his left; Shahrukh had his head rested on his crossed arms, which were on the table, and snoring away the passing minutes.

Esteban smiled at the sight of his friend weary from the heist; he not only found it funny, but also kind of... _cute_. He had no idea why, he just did. He just hoped that it wasn't because of-

Esteban's smile suddenly transitioned into a wicked smirk as his mind was imbued with rather dirty thoughts. He slowly stood up and, sauntering toward his mongoose friend, lifted him up and placed him gently on his former spot on the table. Observing from head to toe, the macaw glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping and began to rub the mongoose's crouch. His groans only grew in unison with his erection, which stood rigidly when pumped at a rapid pace. He then took it all in, moaning with ecstasy as he sucked on his cock relentlessly. In fact, the tip nearly reached the back of his throat and tickled him a tad; his beak prevented him from engulfing any more of his friend's member. It didn't matter, anyway; what mattered was that Shahrukh was getting close now. Really, really close...

" _Ngh...!_ "

Shahrukh finally reached his dickgasm. He unwittingly and unwillingly ejaculated into Esteban's mouth, the macaw moaning more as wave after wave of cum flowed into his throat and throughout his body. His cock remained in his mouth, continuing to spit and swallow the remnants of Shahrukh's seed. After a few moments, Esteban's beak opened and Shahrukh's shift slipped out, semen dripping from both body parts. He flew up and quickly closed his wings, landing directly on top of his boner, promptly a reasonable yelp of (pleasurable, in Esteban's case) pain from both Esteban and Shahrukh, which jolted the latter fully awake.

"Esteban...?" The mongoose immediately developed a horrified eye twitch upon the sight before him.

"Shh. Keep calm and relax on, my naughty prisoner."


	5. Chapter 5: Hear No Evil

Chapter 5: Stuck In The Middle With You

(Downtown City - 2:35PM)

Twenty minutes had passed, Chase thought as he paced in front of an unconscious Tangier, and that's too much time.

Chase headed downstairs and was going to ask Shahrukh if Mr. Orange was awake, alive and well, but that question was rapidly answered as he took one step into the main room. His eyes widened in horror and he quickly yet carefully backed into the stairwell. His soft breathing was instantly replaced with heavy ones, and he clutched his chest as if he was suffering a heart attack. A literal one in sense, as Mr. Grey jad witnessed the most unbearable thing that was entirely unbearable to witness:

 _Mr. White was doing the dirty with Mr. Orange._

What's worse was that they already finished, which meant that they had been going at it for the past twenty minutes that had passed. Which meant, even worse, that "Esteban" had filled Shahrukh with orange juice.

 _Okay, not in a **literal** sense, but..._

Chase shook that inane thought and backed all the way up where Tangier was still asleep. He continued to pace around, this time focusing on whenever Mr. Orange had been crushing on his best friend. It could've been that time when they had assembled the crew. They were already assigned color-coded names: Shahrukh was Mr. White, Esteban was Mr. Orange, Tangier was Mr. Blonde, Shivers was Mr. Pink, and he was...Mr. Grey. Named after that damned book of his.

Chase needed to support Shahrukh on his newfound love, but Mr. Grey wanted to chastise Mr. White as well, as it interfered with their job. He hadn't in the slightest how it interfered, but he knew that it would come back to haunt them both. He had known the man since that switcheroo incident, and he had grown to look up to him as he did the same. As a teammate, he was loyal, but as a friend...his loyalties were already being tested.

Such as the ones towards the Littlest Pet Shop pets.

Suddenly, as if like a gust of wind, Chase was knocked down and knocked out. Not before he witnessed the bag of diamonds disapperate before his very eyes, which gradually closed as he fell asleep...unlike the current Tangier.

* * *

(Downtown City - 3:00PM)

He ran toward the Downtown City Courthouse, his empty SIG-Sauer P229 E2 clutched his grasp and his right eye bleeding profusely. Not daring to glance back behind him, the pet continued to rapidly sprint until he reached the courthouse and burst in. Glancing around all over, his eyes landed on 13B. Without hesitation, he rushed in, just in the middle of Blythe's testimony.

Everybody, including the pets and Blythe herself, turned to face the pet run in and jump on the side where the police department, Detective Tara Barton in particular, was.

"Detective...Barton..."

"You're not Mr. Grey, are you?"

"No. Cousin, actually."

"Grey never mentioned a family member. So you're not?"

"Half."

"I assume you are one of the presumed diamond heisters?"

"Half."

"And where are the others?"

"Either missing or dead..."

* * *

(Downtown City - 2:45PM)

Remember that little eulogy about handcuffs and their purpose to restrain oneself as a means of safety precautions by police officers and other authorities?

It's not that common in the _reverse_.

Shahrukh and Esteban were both suddenly jolted awake, restrained by (you guessed it) handcuffs from behind the chairs they respectively sat in. Rope restricted any arm movement whatsoever, while grey duct tape hindered their voice of protest against what the hell was going to occur next.

"Alone at last."

The two thieves turned and their eyes widened with horrified shock as Tangier strolled towards them, a deadly grin slapped on his face like a fucking madman,

"Now...where were we?"

Suddenly, like a cobra, Tangier lashed out at Shahrukh, striking him with a punch to the left cheek, provoking a pained grunt from the mongoose.

"That's for chastising on the heist!"

Another punch and another grunt, this time to his right cheek.

"That's for accusing me of being the rat!"

Another punch and another grunt, this time to the groin, to which point the grunt transitioned into a muffled scream.

"And that's for beating me up with a sock o' butter!"

Tangier left Shahrukh a heavily panting mess and headed over to Esteban, who began to tremble with fear and sweat as the dog carefully surveyed the macaw head to toe. The mongoose began to furiously pull on his restraints, his eyes glowing bloody red; this was a pretty good sign that he was ready to kill.

"Don't worry, lover boy. Your boyfriend will live...for now."

Tangier then patted Esteban on his shoulders before heading over to a nearby radio and turning it on to a nearby station. As he did, he took off his suit jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and pulled out a concealed switchblade from his ankle holster. Which he promptly activated.

Taking out a VHS tape, Tangier displayed it for the two of them to see,

"This...is one of my personal favorites."

Inserting the tape until the instrumental played, the blue dog stepped away from the radio and into the spotlight...stuck in the middle between the mongoose and the macaw. After which he began to dance and sing.

 **(Stealers Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You)**

 _Well I don't know why I came here tonight_

 _I got the feeling that something ain't right_

 _I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair_

 _And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs_

 _Clown to the left of me, jokers to the right_

 _Here I am stuck in the middle with you_

Tangier lashed out at Shahrukh again, this time slashing the previously punched cheek with his switchblade.

 _Yes, I'm stuck In the middle with you_

 _And I'm wondering what it is I should do_

 _It's so hard to keep this smile from my face_

 _Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place_

 _Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right_

 _Here I am stuck in the middle with you_

 _Well you started out with nothing,_

 _And you're proud that you're a self made man_

 _And your friends, they all come crawlin,_

 _Slap you on the back and say,_

 _Please, please_

 _Trying to make some sense of it all_

 _But I can see that it makes no sense at all_

 _Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor_

 _'Cause I don't think I can take anymore_

 _Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right_

 _Here I am stuck in the middle with you_

Tangier abruptly leaped onto Esteban's lap whilst wielding the bloodied switchblade. Shahrukh looked on in genuinely horror as he proceeded to slice off his right ear, bloodcurdling screams matching the action perfectly...or, in this case, terribly.

"Hold still! I said, hold still, ya' fucker!"

 _Well you started out with nothing_

 _And you're proud that you're a self made man_

 _And your friends, they all come crawlin,_

 _Slap you on the back and say,_

 _Please, please_

Tangier leaped off and observed the ear he had cut off and treated it as if it were a seashell.

"Hey! What's going on? Can you hear that?" Tangier maniacally cackled as Esteban continued to muffle scream his way out of the pain.

 _Well I don't know why I came here tonight_

 _I got the feeling that something ain't right_

 _I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair_

 _And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs_

 _Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right_

 _Here I am stuck in the middle with you,_

 _Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,_

 _Stuck in the middle with you, here I am stuck in the middle with you_

By the time the song ended, Esteban was left a whimpering, withering mess and Shahrukh was a beat up, beat down wreck who was ready to severely maim Tangier when he was finished.

"Now, with that being said and done..." Tangier began as he reached out for a nearby object; Shahrukh and Esteban's horror increased past tenfold when they realized what that object was,

"You didn't think I was gonna let some first-year thief and his homosexual lover ruin the celebration, did you?"

The two of them began to violently protest as the dog began to pour gasoline around them both.

"Now, I'm not a homophobic, but...I'll take this as an exception."

Esteban began to tear up again, prompting Shahrukh to glare deadly daggers at Tangier, who in turn shot a look as well as he strolled toward his feathery friend and swiftly removing the duct tape from his beak. As soon as he did, Esteban begged, "Please."

"Don't worry, it'll all be over before you know it," Tangier coldly rejected his pleas for mercy as he patted his shoulder, "There are no hard feelings between us both, but...I'm just an professional doing his job."

Suddenly, a gun cocked and Tangier glanced up toward the source, his eyes widening as well and his heart suddenly racing. He backed away slowly as a voice replied, " _Donc je suis._ "

Translation: _So am I._

In the blink of an eye, Tanger was agilely pumped 12 rounds of lead into him, the final round penetrating his forehead and going through it. The blue dog fell down dead and his eyes gradually closed. Shahrukh and Esteban took this opportunity to slowly turn their heads to face their proclaimed savior, whose fit structure resembled Chase's and fashioned a jet black turtleneck with a matching ski mask. He clutched two objects in his grasp: one was an empty SIG-Sauer P229 E2 and the other...was the duffel bag of diamonds.

His eyes eyed the two pets with skepticism until he decided to free them. After he did, they all shared a standoff before the stranger muttered, " _Ne croyez pas cela change quoi que ce soit...du tout._ "

Translation: _Do not believe this changes anything...at all._

He then took off in a sprint, the mongoose and the macaw hesitating to follow him and retrieve their diamonds back. What mattered now was that each other was safe, safe enough to enjoy a warm embrace.

Which is exactly what they did.

* * *

Emma looked on in confusion as the figure ran away from the warehouse, bag in hand.

"Umm, Jason?"

"I know, Emma. He's heading for the courthouse. He expects to be followed."

"Which is exactly what we're going to do?"

"Which is exactly what we're going to do."

Emma and Philippa both pumped their Mossberg 500s, while Jason chambered his Remington 700PSS. Taking their equipment with them, the trio intended to follow Mr. Grey to the courthouse.

Little did they know, that wasn't Mr. Grey.

Captain Cuddles expected this as well, however.


	6. Chapter 6: Mexican Standoffs, Part 1

Chapter 6: Cousins Vs. Cousins Vs. Authorities Vs. Antiheroes

(Downtown City - 3:15PM)

"Hey! Hey! You alright, mate?"

Mr. Grey groggily tore his eyes open and shot up akin a bullet. Glancing around for a mere second, his eyes landed on one of his teammates, a red squirrel with blue-green eyes and a penchant for hoarding.

"Mr. Pink?"

"The heist's gone haywire, Mr. Grey; you can call me Shivers."

"Okay, then. What kind of a name is Shivers, though?"

"It's my name, and we need to get to the courthouse; Mr. Blue's headed there now and Mr. Blonde's dead."

"Well, Shiver me timbers!" He couldn't help but chortle.

"Yes, and Mr. Blue has the-oh, hardy har har. Very funny." He couldn't help but snark.

"Very. So, you were saying?"

"Yes, as I was saying...Mr. Blue's got the bag of diamonds and heading toward the courthouse to fess up."

"Well, it would make sense, considering the shitstorm we're in."

"Yeah, we're just kites dancing in a hurricane, and the shitstorm's just getting started."

"You mean a classic Mexican standoff near the climax of the film?"

"Sure, why not."

Helping Mr. Grey up, Shivers handed him his SIG-Sauer P229R as he pulled out his SIG-Sauer P229 E2, checking his ammunition as the polecat did the same. Facing each other and nodding in unison, they began to head downstairs when Mr. Grey realized something and placed a hand on Shivers's shoulder to stop him. Passing in front of him to check if the coast was clear, he clutched his P229R and slowly crept down the stairs before peeking out from behind the wall. What he saw fully refreshed his memories; Shahrukh and Esteban were both committing nasty sex on the table before Tangier knocked him out. Speaking of Tangier...he and his blood were splattered everywhere as Mr. White and Mr. Orange lovingly embraced.

"Wow. Talk about some _nasty_ unpleasantness."

Mr. Grey didn't want to interrupt or spoil the sincere moment, but he did; fortunately for him, the two of them were too busy with being in love with each other to be angry.

"Hey, Ingram."

"Shahrukh. How's..."

"I'm okay, Chase, besides the cut-off ear." Esteban giggled at Shahrukh stiffened at the mention of Tangier's dastardly deed, "It's good to see you, too."

"Right. Good to see you."

"Mr. Grey! Is the coast clear?"

"Sure. It depends on how your stomach reacts."

Shivers had absolutely no idea what Grey was referring to until he discovered the blood-surrounded corpse of Mr. Blonde. He gagged and raised his hand over his mouth to prevent a vomiting, all the while attempting (and failing) to maintain his posture. Cocking the hammer of his handgun, Grey pushed Shivers then Shahrukh and Esteban, who then drew their own sidearms.

"So, where are we headed?" The macaw asked, clutching his bandaged ear.

"The courthouse," Shiver responded, "Mr. Blue's headed there right now, planning to fess up for our crimes."

"By this rate, he'll already be there," Shahrukh guessed, not knowing the time that had passed since. The mongoose guessed right, however, this fact remaining unbeknownst to him and the rest of the group.

* * *

(Downtown City - At the same time...)

"Well, that would make sense. I still don't understand how you got the bloody eye."

"I got the eyes from my mother. I'll fully explain later."

Captain Cuddles reloaded his SIG-Sauer P229 E2 as Detective Tara Barton drew her Glock 17. Jason, Philippa, and Emma (the trio who had arrived soon after the European polecat finished his story) all readied their weapons at the courthouse room entrance; the robbers' boss were scheduled to arrive any minute once they heard of the botched robbery. Blythe couldn't help but feel like the most craziest things always happen when she wasn't around; the pets didn't feel the same way, but instead vice versa.

Suddenly, three knocks caught the attention of everyone in the room, especially the ones with the guns. Speaking of which, they aimed their weapons carefully and... The door opened to find not the robbers' boss but his two cousinly associates.

"Whiskers? Sideburns?"

"Yes, Russell, it is us," Whiskers swiftly answered whilst twirling his Colt Commander.

"You know, we're still in America; you don't have to continue your little fuckin' Aussie accent," Sideburns stated with visible annoyance, threatening to hold his Colt MK IV Series 70 on his own cousin.

His cousin in response rolled his eyes in disinterest and faced Captain Cuddles in response to his current question: "Where's the boss?"

"He's fuckin' dead, Blue. Obviously. The fuzz found him and pumped him full of fuckin' lead, him and the remaining Rainbow Dashes, until they fuckin' drowned in their own fuckin' blood."

"Either that, or we both may or may not bumped them off when we found out that they weren't gonna pay us back our fuckin' $10,000 for the fuckin' heist." Whiskers glared at Sideburns in response to his muttering comment.

"Called it." Everybody turned to the opened door to find a certain American polecat waiting with a certain red squirrel by his side, "Yep, I definitely called it. How are you, Cousin Cuddles?"

"Oh, besides the bloody eye, I'm fine, thank you. Where's White and Orange?"

"They're coming; they're just...stopping by a McDonald's. They're quite famished from all this excitement."

"You'll think they'll got the double entendre?" Shivers whispered in his ear.

"Oh, they will," Ingram replied back.

"Hey! Wait a fuckin' min!" Sideburns interjected in their conversation, "Mr. Blonde was supposed to take care of you two fucks! Where's that fuckin' bitch in sheep's clothing, anyway?"

"He's fucking dead, asshat," Ingram cockily answered, "I fucking figured that you and your asshat of another cousin would find out. I fucking figured wrong. Good job by the way, Blue."

"Thank you," Cuddles touched his bandaged eye.

"Oh, well," Whiskers interrupted/started, "If you can't join them..."

"Shoot them!" Sideburns added/finished, him and his cousin brandishing their weapons, as did Mr. Grey, Captain Cuddles, Detective Barton, Jason, Philippa, and Emma. Pretty much all the people who had guns. Aiming their firearms at each other, the police got in the action and drew their Glock 19s on the koala cousins, instantly identifying them as the bad guys. The only one who didn't draw any type of firearm was...

Shivers made his way to the bathroom to inform the two "lovebirds" that the party was already getting started. Boy, were they already informed.

"Umm...guys?"

"Not now, Shivers; I'm busy ratting out a rat."

"What?" The squirrel sweat-dropped in fear...

"I just find out that my boyfriend's the police informant!" Which was subverted when he sighed in relief...and then confusion took over,

"Wait, what? You two are dating?!"

"We're reconsidering, considering my mongoose sweetheart isn't exactly being sweet as of this moment."

"And for good reason."

"Oh, come on, guys! Nobody wants this! We're supposed to be fucking professionals!"

Despite Shivers' protest, the two of them continued to take aim and cocked their respective P229 E2s as Shahrukh delivered a killer one-liner:

"We are professionals...this is just personal."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait and the fact that this chapter may seem convoluted.


	7. Chapter 7: The Climax, Part 2

Chapter 7: The Climax, Part 2

 **Warning** : Unfinished Chapter...

Shahrukh / Mr. White and Esteban / Mr. Orange both ran side by side and stopped as soon as they were far from the radius of the bank. Glancing around and catching their breath, the couple made their way to their getaway car. Which, unfortunately, was destroyed in the aftermath of another car chase.

"Damn it!"

"Relax, Orange. Hide behind the car."

Esteban did what he was told as Shahrukh pulled his duty SIG-Sauer P229 E2 and a SIG-Sauer P226R he took off one of the security guards. Dual wielding the two handguns, the mongoose waited for the right moment to open fire. The right moment referring to when the police cruiser that was pursuing them turned around the corner in three, two, one...

 _Now._

 **BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Shahrukh continued to unload on the police officers and their vehicle, the former of which shouted in shocked pain as they became riddled with bullets. In the aftermath, the windshield was splattered with blood, the officers' corpses were remaining motionless, and his two handguns' slides were locked back... Exactly like they should be. One thing that Shahrukh absolutely despised in any action, adventure, or genre movie were the filmmakers' inability to portray the firearms accurately. From unlimited amounts of bullets to the easy accessible click to confirm the gun was empty. Sure, he was a movie star himself, but at least he knew how to get the facts and logic straight.

Shahrukh reloaded his SIG-Sauer P229 E2 and tossed the empty SIG-Sauer P226R onto the hood of the decimated police cruiser. Tucking his sidearm into his suit, he walked behind their demolished getaway vehicle and opened his mouth to call out for Esteban, only to stop dead in his tracks – his friend wasn't there.

"Esteban?"

Shahrukh glanced around for his macaw associate.

"Esteban!"

Shahrukh breathed heavily and ran all over.

 _"ESTEBAN!"_

"Shahrukh..."

The mongoose held his head and ran a little further. He turned around a corner and finally found his macaw friend...bleeding out next to a car, the owner of which lay dead with a hole in her chest. Shahrukh took one step and ran the rest, pulling the corpse out of her former car and placing Esteban in. Driving off with a bleeding-out macaw in the backseat, the mongoose had little time to get to the headquarters. He had to get there...and fast.

* * *

"Huh. That would explain a lot."

"Believe me, Shivers, it explains more than a lot."

"Esteban, dollface, it explains how we both got into this predicament in the first place...and how you raped me in my sleep."

"Eww!"

"Shut up, Shivers. Unlike most rapees, he actually let me rape him."

"Yikes."

"Just hear us out, okay?"

"Why? "

"Because – "

 **BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly glanced up at their Mexican Standoff and turned their attention to the bathroom door, and then at each other, and then back to the bathroom door.

Somebody had to be dead. Enough said.


End file.
